


The Fabulous Wedding of Dumbledore and Gandalf

by FairyRose11



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:13:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7088572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyRose11/pseuds/FairyRose11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is stunned, to put it mildly, when the two greatest wizards of the age announce their engagement. In one week, like seriously, ever heard of a warning? Nevertheless, our loyal heroes gather together to celebrate Gandalf and Dumbledore's impending marriage...culture shock and Weasley twin antics most definitely included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fabulous Wedding of Dumbledore and Gandalf

Harry Potter was rather surprised to get the wedding invitation. It had been a long time since he’d gone to a wedding. He couldn’t quite remember how long; he thought the last one might have been the day Albus swallowed a galleon and then attempted to use Harry’s wand to retrieve it and had set the lawn ornaments on fire so… quite a long while then.

Harry opened the envelope, and stared at it. “Er,” he said. “Ginny?”

“Yes?” Ginny’s voice was muffled. She was cleaning out the doxies from under their sink.

“Dumbledore’s definitely dead, right?”

“Pretty sure he died years ago. You met him in the Great Beyond and everything, remember?”

Harry examined the invitation again. He took off his glasses, cleaned, them, and no, it was still the same. “Well… apparently Dumbledore's somehow back and is getting married to someone named… Gandalf?”

There was a yelp as Ginny banged her head against the top of the sink. There was another yelp as doxie bit her. Then some mild cursing. “Let me see that,” she muttered, grabbing the letter.

Ginny looked at it. Frowned. Tilted her head. “And it’s this Sunday. But--”

“I know,” Harry said, “It’s so unreal--”

“Yes, there’s that, but Harry! How in the name of Merlin’s pants are we supposed to find a wedding present for a supposedly dead headmaster in less than a week?!”

Harry stared at her.

“Really,” Ginny continued, “I could have used some _warning_.”

“You,” Harry said firmly, “Have been spending far too much time with Hermione. _Priorities_.”

 

The great King of Gondor and Arnor was mildly perturbed by the floating letter. It just bobbed in the air next to him. He’d tried taking it and setting it down to look at later, but it just hopped up and proceeded to settle at eye level again.

He might not have found it so irritating had he not been in the middle of an important meeting about whether or not they would go to war with the goblins over property dispute. Aragorn was trying to argue for a _no_ on that one, but the peasants waving their hands and shouting about _stolen goods_ and _I’ve lived and worked in these here mines for thirty years and I ain’t given that up to a bunch of no-good--”_ and that was where Aragorn found it too difficult to keep on listening.

Kingship was his birthright, and it was deeply rewarding in its way, but at times Aragorn wished that he could designate certain tasks to the hired help.

Arwen strode gracefully into the room, and Aragorn sat up straight, relief shooting through him. Surely his beloved queen would be of assistance--

Arwen ignored the commonfolk completely, plucking the letter away from Aragorn’s temples and opening it.

Aragorn appreciated her getting rid of that particular annoyance, but… He tried to signal _Some help, darling?_ with his eyes.

She ignored it. Which in the universal language that all wives speak, meant _You’re on your own with this one._

She was polite enough to wait while Aragorn settled the entire debacle, which was certainly the more Queenly thing to do, and he understood that.

Still. An excuse. Wouldn’t have been so difficult. Elves and their tendency to be unfailingly honest. Really.

“May I ask what was so important that Gandalf felt the need to send word ahead to tell me that he will be visiting?” Because of course the letter had to be from Gandalf. Admittedly, it wasn’t quite the wizard’s style, but who else had such power?

Besides the Brown, and the two Blues, and the hopefully dead original White, but none of them had any reason to contact the King.

“He is to be wed,” Arwen told him solemnly, and Aragorn gagged on his own saliva. Which shouldn’t have been possible, but Gandalf did have a way of bringing unlikely events into being. Aragorn recovered and glanced down at the wedding invitation.

“To Albus Dumbledore… well, this is… more than a surprise, but of course we will attend. Now… where is this Hogwarts and how do we get there by horse?”

 

All around Great Britain and Middle Earth the news spread. Most rejoiced. Many were awestruck that Mithrandir, their own wizard, was settling down with someone. Reactions varied from astonishment, to, well:

“If you had told me that the Ring had been reformed from the ashes, that the Enemy had actually taken the shape of a halfling decades ago and has been working to knit sweaters in the Shire, and that Legolas is in fact an ordinary Man who just happens to have strangely long ears and a wig made from the tail of a pony, I would perhaps be as shocked as I am now,” Gimli muttered. “On the other hand… no. No I would not.”

The wizards of Great Britain were less weirded out by the marriage than by the fact that Dumbledore had somehow risen from the dead and was promising that he would make lemon drops rain from the sky before the ceremony. In celebration. And because they were quite delicious.

“Can the living even marry the dead?” Ron asked weakly.

“I thought you might be wondering about that, so I went--”

“To the library,” Ron, Rose, and Hugo all chimed in.

“--and believe it or not, there have been prior cases! There was a witch from America and a 15th century nobleman a couple of decades ago… and there was one recorded case of muggles attempting it, though in that case the woman was less of a ghost and more of an animated corpse…”

“Valuable information,” Ron said. “But honestly, why haven’t we ever heard of this bloke? If _Dumbledore’s_ marrying him, he must be someone important…”

Hermione triumphantly pulled out a large volume entitled _The Lord of the Rings_ , by a Frodo Baggins. “The librarian said that she had to travel to an entirely different universe in order to get a copy of this book! So after I congratulated her on her dedication, I started reading…”

 

One thing became apparent on the day of the wedding. Whatever Gandalf had done in order to retrieve Dumbledore from the land of the dead (and all he would say on the matter was “I have my ways of crossing over from this world into the next… and dear Albus provided me with the best conversation I’ve had in over five hundred years…” and then smile dreamily, which on Gandalf was a very bizarre expression) he’d done it for _everyone_. Meaning, everyone they knew who’d died over the last couple of decades. Back for the nuptials.

This took some getting used to. Aragorn had almost broken his tooth biting down on a fork when Boromir appeared at dinnertime. “Of course, I would love to attend…” Boromir told him, voice generally wistful, “But Gandalf pointed out that you would need someone to remain here and assure that chaos does not erupt in the kingdom while you are gone.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn said sincerely, before experimenting with a hug.

As the King left to begin packing, Boromir gazed at the chair that Aragorn had just vacated. He sighed, managing to control it so it sounded more nostalgic and less like a lovesick schoolgirl.

“You can join the club,” Eowyn, who’d been visiting, offered.

“Thank you, I appreciate the sentiment--”

“No, you can actually join the club. We meet on Wednesdays at noon. Bring your favorite Aragorn story and be prepared to weep about how he’ll never be yours. Don’t be self-conscious, you’ll be the fiftieth member.” 

So as the guests began to gather, there were many unexpected reunions. Harry’s eyes misted up as the Weasley twins ran to each other, then joy gave way to immediate suspicion when they started whispering with the short newcomer who’d introduced himself as Pippin. Harry wondered if he should do something about that, but on second thought… “Wait for me, Ginny!” he called, deciding that whatever happened, he would hear nothing, see nothing, and therefore be absolutely blameless.

Old friends embraced. Sam cried out in joy when he saw Frodo walking up the front lawn (“Well, I told myself, Frodo Baggins, you will regret it for the rest of your life if you miss Gandalf’s wedding”) Bilbo trailing behind him.

As anticipated, lemon drops rained from the sky before the ceremony. Merry picked one up, scratching his head. “But… what is it?”

“It’s candy,” Hermione offered, just before the church exploded.

Fortunately, it turned out to be a false alarm; the church was fine, it was just that the windows had all shattered and then reassembled themselves to read: “Congratulations Gandledore! Or Dumbalf! We weren’t sure which was better, but hooray!!!”

Fred and George bowed. Pippin, who had come up with the idea in the first place, went past bowing, hopped onto the table, and performed a celebratory jig.

“Oh, Pip,” Merry moaned, “I thought we were past this.”

“In all fairness, they probably shouldn’t have served firewhiskey straight off,” Ron offered. Merry ignored him and tried to get Pippin to get down, but his cousin was surprisingly determined. And very drunk. After a couple of minutes, Merry threw up his hands and joined Pippin. At least this way they could be embarrassed in solidarity later. And anyway, from the brief glimpse they’d caught of Gandalf’s fiance, he’d seemed too amused to care.

Merry liked him already.

 

The actual ceremony began without a hitch. Unless you counted Bilbo sobbing rather loudly into his handkerchief. Every person in front of him turned around, faces displaying a wince, a scowl, or a fond smile, depending on the person (really, the last one was just Frodo and Sam, who had decided to adopt a positive approach in hopes that Bilbo would remember that he had close friends and perhaps be a _tiny_ bit quieter, for their sake).

The ghost of Thorin Oakenshield raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t start,” Bilbo blubbered.

“I wasn’t going to say a word,” Thorin said, death having apparently taught him subtly and the ability to lie convincingly so that the nice ghost chap with the funny machine called a camera could capture this moment in the hilarious way that it deserved.

Two rows down, Percy was furiously trying to disentangle his pocket watch from Gimli’s beard. “Maybe we could just cut it…” Percy began to quiver at the murderous gleam that came into the dwarf’s eye. “Or I could get a new one…”

On the opposite side of the church, Legolas was being highly insulted. “I’m sorry,” he said, with the gentle politeness that he was determined to keep up so as not to lose that bet with Gimli, “But I am not a centaur who was cursed with human legs. I mentioned the stars _once_.”

A hush came over the crowd as Gandalf appeared. Elanor Gamgee skipped in front of him, sprinkling flower petals. It had been determined that Dumbledore would be the one to wait at the aisle, Harry at his side as best man.

(When Harry had learned of this, he’d been incredibly honored, until Dumbledore had cheerfully mentioned a quest to prove he was worthy of such a position. Harry had proceeded to leap on his broomstick and was fifty feet in the air before he heard Dumbledore’s magically projected voice saying “...a joke, Harry!”)

Gandalf reached Dumbledore, and they clasped hands. Elrond, who had graciously agreed to marry them, cleared his throat.

“We have come together, on this most joyous of days, to join--”

“MY PRECIOUSSSS!!” someone shrieked. The music jerked to a halt  as a bony ghost charged into the room. Nobody could look away from him, but he had eyes for only one thing: the rings, shining on the pillow resting in Albus Potter’s arms. The eleven-year old met the eyes of the foul creature, prepared to defend the rings with his life, as over-dramatic kids will typically do.

Sam coughed. “Er, Mr. Gandalf, would you like me to?”

“Thank you, Samwise,” Gandalf said, apparently determined not to exert himself on his wedding day.

“Right then.” Sam marched over to Gollum, “Excuse me ladies, and gentlemen, don’t worry, I’ve dealt with this before.” He grabbed Gollum by the shoulder.

“All right, Stinker, let’s go.”

“But… but… Precious!!”

“Your precious was destroyed a decade ago,” Frodo pointed out drilly. “Thank you for helping me with that, by the way.”

Gollum whimpered as Sam dragged him away. The hobbit returned in a few minutes, breathing hard. The music immediately resumed.

Bilbo wasn’t the only teary eyed person as Gandalf spoke of long lives, sudden chances and finding love where you never even thought to look. When he was done, Dumbledore began his own vows.

“I have only a few things to say.”

Every Hogwarts graduate in the audience braced themselves.

“To love, loyalty, and new adventures.”

“That,” Ron whispered to Hermione, “Is the most bloody normal thing I’ve ever heard him say.”

Elrond pronounced them husband and husband, there was a kiss and cheers all around. Then the music changed from _Here Comes the Bride_ to more suitably festive tunes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard music quite like this before,” Aragorn confessed. He shielded his eyes as a disco ball dropped from the ceiling. “I… I will not ask.”

“Let’s groove tonight,” the lyrics proclaimed “Share the spice of life.”

Basically everyone in the audience, except for muggle-borns and the Weasley twins stood still, briefly taken aback. Fred and George didn’t bother with exclaiming over the weird muggle music, and instead grabbed Pippin and proceeded to commandeer the dance floor. Hermione and Ginny shrugged and followed suite. Slowly but surely, all the guests began to dance.

There wasn’t a lot of mingling at first, until Hermione walked up to Frodo and said “Excuse me, but are you the author of _The Lord of the Rings_?”

“Yes,” Frodo said, surprised. “I wasn’t aware anyone had read my book…”

“Oh, I did,” Hermione breathed. “I wanted to talk to you about the Ring. I think that my friend Harry, my husband Ron, and myself dealt with the same thing a while back…. I’ve recorded the similarities, so if you wouldn’t mind answering some questions...”

Which was how Frodo and Hermione ended up dancing together and Ron watched in dumbfoundment as his wife proved that she could simultaneously twirl and take down notes.

After that, Aragorn danced with Ginny, Eowyn with Neville, and Legolas with Professor McGonagall. Luna and Galadriel began an animated discussion on the invisible creatures in the forest that everyone just _thought_ was the leaves rustling but were of course the legendary silhouettos that fed on mortal fear.

“I am glad to finally meet someone with enough to sense to be wary of the dreaded beasts,” Galadriel told her.

“Of course, I always knew they were real,” Luna said contentedly. “They’ve even found their way into our voices!” This came after the song currently playing got to “I see a little silhouetto of a man, scaramouch, scaramouch will you do the fandango--”

In the corner of the room, the returned spirit of Professor Snape and Elrond leaned against the wall, as they were too suave to party.

Surveying it all, Gandalf smiled. “You were right, Albus. It brightens the soul to see them all together.”

“Our two worlds are not so different,” Dumbledore agreed. “The bonds of friendship and love run deep between your people, as they do in mine.”

The two men clasped hands contentedly. “I do think it’s time for our exit,” Dumbledore said pointedly.

“Of course,” Gandalf agreed. “Our honeymoon in Hawaii… why did we pick Hawaii again?”

“Because there are no Dark Lords on the beach.”

“Of course.”

“May I have everyone’s attention?” Dumbledore asked. It wasn’t very loud, but all eyes were instantly on him. He cleared his throat. “I do believe that this is traditional…” He waved his wand and triumphantly held up a bouquet of roses.

“Now of course those who are already married don’t apply. “ A good portion of the people in the room moved to the side. Dumbledore smiled, then heaved the flowers into the crowd.

Legolas, of course, plucked them out of the air. He glanced at the person who was nearest to him. Who happened to be Gimli.

Elf and dwarf both went a startling shade of red, which wasn’t something you saw every day, and Legolas hurriedly tossed the bouquet to the next person. This was Bilbo, who was standing next to Thorin. Their blushes were more of the semi-embarrassed and secretly delighted sort. Meanwhile Legolas and Gimli individually made plans to avoid each other for the rest of the evening.

“Well then,” Gandalf said happily, “We will just be going then.” He clapped his hands, and there was a burst of light. Not just any light. Rainbow colored flames that caused everyone to throw hands over their eyes, brilliant colors dancing on their retinas.

When it was safe to look again, both wizards had vanished. In the silence, Bilbo said “Funny, Gandalf never used to go in for dramatic exits…”

“That would be Dumbledore’s influence,” Harry acknowledged.

The crowd looked around, each a little bit unsure of what to do next. “I think,” Luna said decisively, “That they would want us to go on dancing.”

“That does sound like them,” Aragorn agreed. And so they did.


End file.
